The Huurling Company
by DBD Turdukken X
Summary: Follow the former head of an extremely covert and elite mercenary the Small Timers as he now runs a new mercenary company in the DC Universe. Announcement: Huurling means Mercanary.
Huurling Company.

New story DC Comicverse this time. Will not be based off of any comic timelines or other media because I don't have the time or money to go and read them.

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(Random Gotham Warehouse.)

"Ow my head." I groan waking up from the inky blackness of Unconciousness. I took stock of my surroundings and spotted many things, one: a large pile of weapons and armor, two: a large pile of ammo, three: an Independence-Class Littoral Combat Ship, with four turbine engines mounted on vertically with what looked to be heavy duty swivel mounts, two larger ones mounted laterally for forward propulsion, and finally a large filing cabinet with a yellow sticky note on it. I walked up to the filing cabinet it read:

To: Former U.S.M.C. Major Rex Huurling of the Small Time Merc corporation.

From: Random multi-dimensional being.

After seeing you and your mercenary company get wiped out I have decided to take pity on you and as such I have dropped you in the DC Comic verse, Gotam to be exact, with all the equipment necessary to start up you new life, keep in mind universe swapping is maybe going to be a thing. Oh yeah and you now have the ability to survive and heal from literally everything, oh and you are now twice as durable as an M1-Abrams tank.

Forever Random:

Random Multidimensional being.

"That was fucking random." I said, of course I believed it my last memory was of getting shot in the heart, neck, chest and most other parts of my body as well as stabbed repeatedly and set on fire on the top level of a Bagdad skyscraper rigged to the brim with C4, Napalm and a nuke thirty seconds before detonation, don't ask long story, before looking down at my clothes which consisted of my usual black leather jacket, black military grade BDU pants, dragon skin bullet proof vest, and black combat boots, all of which was shredded. "I do need to change." I turned to the pile of weapons and armor and pulled out a suit of liquid armor. "Damn, this stuff in't cheap." I said before putting it on it covered me from my feet to my chin and after further digging I found a liquid armor mask that had two slanted red triangles for eye holes and there were holes in the back my guess for a sort of rebreather system upon diving through the mostly guns and standard issue Dragon Skin schest and body armor pieces I found what I guess was the rest of the armor. Which was a Mjolnir Mk. 6 form Halo style array of black titanium armor plates, a strength enhancing Exoskeleton the power source and the rebreather. I put it all together and I looked like a more badass version of master chief.

Of course the spare armor weapons and the various camouflage DBUs were for future recruits still I got first pick and grabbed two large futuristic looking pistols, two SMG style future guns, an assault rifle future gun, shotgun future gun and a pair of large cannon-rifles that were about as tall as I was.

How did I know that they were what they were? Well the pistols looked like Desert Eagles only there were glowing red piping, the SMGs looked like my all time favorite UMP .45s again with glowing red piping, the AR looked like a black SCAR-H with a holo sight and forward pistol grip with red piping, the shotgun looked like a double barreled version of the Halo: Reach shotgun only agin with red piping and the cannon-rifles had bores that I could fit my fist in and looked similar to the Harkonen 2 cannons from Hellsing Ultimate only instead of a belt port there was a glowing red box in it's place, the same with the magazines of the rest of the weapons. Of course there were smaller 1911s, M9s, M4s, and such I just chose the biggest ones I could find.

I looked over at the fifty or so pallets of Ammo cans and thought that it must be the batteries or whatever for these things. I walked up to the Littoral Combat Hover Vessel and found a panel at ground level at the back that upon further inspection revealed itself to be a button to open and close the cargo bay doors and upon pressing it a ramp descended and made contact with the floor revealing a nearly void cargo area with a single 1975 Shelby GT V8 Mustang with a matte black paint job with red racing stripes, a pair of hood mounted mini guns with red piping and various more seams in it, That most certainly weren't body panels. I decided I should pack everything in the…Striker and get rolling this was Gotham after all, trouble was bound to be aloof somewhere.

After finding a forklift on the loading dock outside and boxing up all of the spare gear and loading everything into the Striker I looked through the filing cabinet and found the legal documentation to own and operate a PMC as well as my own file that was filled out to state me being the sole owner of and only soldier, at the time, of Huurling Company, as I recruited people I'd have to fill out their files and put it into a data base somewhere.

When I went to the bridge of the Striker I found the controls to be similar to the one man setup I had on my old Littloral-Class only the throttle lever, and helm were replaced with the control scheme for an Osprey tilt rotor craft. I looked around for a power switch of some kind only to give up and head to the engineering deck instead and found what I needed there in the form of a large circuit breaker. Upon flipping said switch the lights came on and a hologram of a young woman with dark black short cropped hair and in Black and red digital camo BDUs and a pair of red tinted aviators appeared next to me.

"Hello Major Huurling." The AI said. "I am Jen the Operational AI for this LCHV."

"First off it's either Rex, Huurling, sir or Sir Huurling(yeah I was knighted by the Ruler of England fun story) and second I've decided to name this ship Striker so change your protocols accordingly." I said before heading for the bridge.

"Understood Rex." Jen replied. "Shall I give you the rundown of the ship or do you wish to take off?"

"Let's get in the air before we do anything, I don't want GCPD bursting in on us while you're showing me the shitters." I said as I took a step into the bridge.

"How crude." Jen said. "Opening the seaward Warehouse doors and powering up the engines…aaaaand we should be hovering, just push forward on the throttle and-"

"Jen with all due respect I have a lot of experience when it comes to flying anything that can go straight up and forward." I said.

"Well you could have just said that Rex, 'cause this is just like flying an Osprey tilt rotor craft." Jen said.

"Good to know." I said gripping the control yolk and the throttle and pushing the throttle forward to the max and blasting out of the warehouse and over Gotham harbor.

"Rex before you get more than the crazy homeless person believing there's an alien invasion you might want to enable stealth systems with this button." Jen said pointing at said button that I then pushed causing the outer hull of the vessel to shimmer and disappear.

"Damn." I said before pulling the Striker into a holding pattern over the harbor. "Alright Jen, details tell 'em."

"Well this is your fairly standard Independence-Class Littoral Combat Vessel only changes are that there are two remote plasma accelerator turrets on the port and starboard sides, a plasma accelerator cannon on the bow, four remote or manned plasma-MG turrets two fore two aft and 6 auto loading 40mm quad missile racks, two Roto-Plasma CWIS turrets, a single camera guided missile tube, four ion pulse swivel jets, two laterally mounted ion pulse jets, a Shade class light refracting shields, a Dragon Class Thermal absorbing shield, a Tzar class radiation shield, kinetic reflection shields and the entire ship is made of an isotope of Promethium, on top of that we have a UH-60 Blackhawk chopper and an Apache gunship." Jen recited.

"What kind of punishment can this girl take?" I asked.

"The equivalent of 25 megatons before being destroyed beyond self-repair." Jen said.

"Damn well I guess the Striker isn't going down anytime soon eh?" I said patting the consoles.

"Indeed Sir." Jen said.

"Soooo…anything we can get involved in around here? I'm fucking bored."

"Well the Police Scanners are reporting a chase through the city center at the moment." Jen said.

"Do we have any non-lethal munitions on board?" I asked.

"1200 flash-bang missiles and 800 EMP missiles." Jen replied.

"Load up EMPs, we're going in." I said.

"You sure there are already reports of Batgirl on the scene." Jen replied.

"Yes." I said before turning off the stealth systems and heading for the city. "Jen track progress and put it up on the display."

"Yes Sir." Jen replied causing a large blue target to appear in the middle of Gotham.

After about thirty seconds of flight we finally caught up to the chase and indeed Batgirl(looked like the Barbra Gordon Batgirl the one from Arkham Knight thankfully none of the cheesy as shit ones from the sixties or the New 52 remake) was on a motorcycle chasing them down with three GCPD Patrol Cars following. They were chasing three vehicles, a Black Chevy Suburban in the rear and two thugs firing military grade automatic MTAR rifles at the chasing vehicles, a semi-box truck in the middle and at the front was a black limo.

"Any ID on suspects?" I asked.

"Penguin is the only confirmed suspect." Jen replied.

"Limo?"

"Yes."

"I am assuming that you are handling weapons?" I asked.

"Until we get a weapons officer, yes." Jen replied.

"Fire an EMP at the Limo, Semi and Suburban send another one at the trailer to ruin any high tech goodies in the trailer." I ordered.

"Yes sir." Jen said causing four missiles to launch from the forward most starboard launcher causing them to arc towards the convoy and indeed all four connected. They didn't explode simply made contact and cut, but the effects were apparent, the vehicles rabidly lost speed and eventually stopped. "Fugitives are prepping for a fight, Sir." Jen said.

"Good, time to show 'em our teeth." I said a grin forming under my mask. "Is there anything alive in the trailer?"

"Negative."

"Blow it, minimal collaterals."

Just as we were about to pass over the target a red bolt of plasma flew from the barrel of the main gun, made contact with the trailer and detonated it towards the rear melting half of it and causing significant damage to the front half. Then we finally flew over it and I ended up doing a mid-air drift with the bow, and cannons pointing at the convict convoy.

"Jen give me intercom." I said.

"Will do." Jen said. Causing a red light to flash into existence on the display. "You're loud."

"ALRIGHT YOU DIRTBAGS! TURN YOURSELVES IN PEACEFULLY FOR THE NICE POLICE OFFICERS AND I DON'T ATOMIZE THE LOT OF YOU!" I said hearing the baritone metallic sound of the intercom from inside the three inch thick promethium and bullet proof glass tub that was the bridge.

"I think that should scare 'em sir." Jen said as the red light blinked out. "Sir, we're getting a comm from Batgirl."

"Put it through audio only." I said.

"Unknown craft identify yourself." The caped crusader ordered.

"This is Rex Huurling Captain of the Mercenary Vessel Striker, verification 2-A38-65-BZ89-MS(MS standing for modified ship.), just thought I'd help out for free." I replied.

After a few seconds I got a reply. "Well your code checks out and no one died so I can't fault you for anything since you have the licensing for everything."

"Exactly my goal miss Gordon." I said, aiming to intentionally startle her.

"…What?" Was the deathly whisper.

"Relax if I wanted to do anything to hurt or kill you I could have vaporized this entire bridge your father and yourself included." I said.

"Shit, thanks for not killing us then?"

"Damn straight." I replied before leveling out and blasting off towards the Atlantic.

After we were about 600 miles of the east coast I turned to the hologram of Jen, who now had a sort of tablet in her left arm and a stylus in her right hand. "So I was thinking of taking on some new recruits." I said.

"I have two potential candidates selected, both on the East Coast, twins, former Marine Corps Apache pilots, one was a gunner and the other flew the birds. On top of that the flyer also had unmatched skill in both Apaches and Blackhawks. The chopper gunner was the top of her class with over 3,000 simulated kills and 45 confirmed kills on terrorists in Afghanistan. I also have a candidate for the helmsman and weapons officer for the Striker. Helmsman somehow served as both a helmsman for a Cyclone class Patrol Boat and an Osprey Pilot, eventually the Navy found out about it and honorably discharged him for it, he is however uniquely qualified to fly this Ship, and as for the Boat Gunner she was the gunner for an Independence-Class LCV and was one of the most effective gunners out there. All four of them have no friends outside the service and no family." Jen said reading from her tablet.

"Let's get our operational status up, give me the chopper twins." I said.

"Alright they are currently in D.C. doing scenic chopper tours, called D.C. Chopper Tours." Jen said.

"How fucking original." I said turning to the north west and blasting off at Mach one for D.C.

(20 minutes later.)

"Approaching D.C. Airspace now, engaging cloak." Jen said. "The twins should be going for another tour in ten minutes, so I suggest you hurry and get on board. I already have your ticket. Bought and paid for by Penguin, unknowingly that is."

"Good." I said grabbing my cover and heading for the exit. I had changed into a set of jungle BDUs with black combat boots and standard cover, worn to Marine corps regulations of course, that meant bloused and freshly polished boots, freshly pressed creases, and a logo that came with the BDUs pinned to the collar: a skull with crossed rifles. And on the front of the cover I had the same logo only it had a banner with the words: De Matchtige Hurrligen(Dutch for The Mighty Mercenaries) over it going between the rifle barrels. As I exited the Striker in an alley behind the hangar that was D.C. Chopper Tours, I put my cover on and headed for the back door of the building.

When I entered the back door I was in a break room with only two pilots in it, both my targets.

"Who are you?" The male twin: Michael 'Mogar' Jones asked. He had messy brown curly hair, brown eyes, glasses and that misspent youth look.

"Names, Rex Huurling and I heard you guys were some of the best in your respective fields, and trust me when I say that the job I'm offering is more interesting than the shit you guys are doing now." I said setting my cover down on the table as I took a seat.

"What do you have in mind?" The Female: Lindsay 'Tuggey' Jones asked. She had long red hair up in a pony tail, brown eyes and that innocent child that could kill you in twenty different ways look.

"A PMC position." I replied.

"No thanks we don't need money that bad." Michael said crossing his arms.

"I can get you both into an Apache." I said.

That got their attention. "What are the ground rules?" Lindsay asked.

"Go crazy just DO NOT kill or destroy anything unnecessary even if I give the order to do so." I said.

"Sounds acceptable how's the pay?" Michael asked.

"Until we expand each of you get a third of the profits on any job we take, though we won't always get paid for jobs." I said.

"So what? Half time soldiers of fortune and half time good Samaritans?" Lindsay asked.

"More like half time heroes-for-hire and held time heroes." I said.

One look between them aaaand… "We're in." They said said simultaneously.

"Michael, Lindsay." I said motioning for them to follow me out back. Then the Striker uncloaked I front of them. "Van Harte Welkom Om De Huurling Bedrijif."

Meaning: Welcome To The Huurling(Mercenary) Company.

(On board The Striker and in the middle of the Atlantic.)

"So welcome to your new home for the foreseeable future, until we get a warehouse, bunker or mountain villa to call home." I said as I walked them to the crews quarters, it could semi-comfortably fit forty crew members and since the repair and maintenance was automated along side the ammo storage being smaller due to only needing to store smaller than 57mm shell missiles and the missiles being stored in automated loading racks it had a larger space so it was a bit more comfortable and spacious than say your standard LCV Crew Cabin.

"Welcome to your new room, unfortunately due to the nature of this ship the dorms are coed, have fun." Jen said her mischievous grin plastered on her holographic face.

"Who are you?" Michael asked.

"Name's Jen, I'm the Striker's Nanny."

"Wow an AI ship admin with humor that isn't bigger than the ship itself color me impressed." Lindsay said.

"Don't ask me how I got the AI or the ship because I have no idea either." I said. "You guys have any personal items or anything you absolutely need for an extended voyage?" I asked.

"Nope." They both replied.

"Good Flight deck is aft." I said heading for the bridge.

"Where are you going?" Lindsey asked.

"To get ready to go recruit our helmsman." I said. "And maybe our weapons operator as well."

Upon entering the bridge I sealed and locked it. "What is the status of our Helmsman?" I asked Jen.

"Well good news is, I found him." Jen said.

"And the obligatory bad news is?" I asked.

"He just got taken into police custody." Jen said.

"Why?" I asked.

"He was unwittingly roped into a bank robbery in Metropolis." Jen replied.

"A. How do you know?"

"Because he has no previous contact with the perps until a day before where they simply asked him for a helicopter ride." Jen replied.

"And B. How do you know?"

"I hacked stuff." Jen replied.

"Fair enough." I said, before hitting the intercom to the flight deck.

"Yes Boss?" Michael answered.

"Strap in you can tinker later when we hit Metropolis." I said.

"Understood Boss." Michael said.

"All lights green to go." Jen said after a few seconds.

"Roger that." I said, putting the Striker into full forward speed towards metropolis.

(20 minutes later MPD Precinct 00.)

"Look O'Brien I'm tryin' to help you here." One of the officers said to the Scotsman in front of him.

"And I'm Tellin' Ya' I'm innocent Ya' bloody idiot!" Former Petty Officer first Class Connor 'Ace' O'Brien shouted back, his full on Scottish beard and frizzy hair orange as a traffic cone and his green eyes blood shot from all the Irish Liquor he had downed within the last 24 hours, his jeans freshly pressed, leather jacket and boots polished and his white tee-shirt freshly pressed.

"And you're sure you want to go in there with that guy?" The Police Commissioner asked me.

"If shit goes down I'm more worried for the furniture." Lindsay said having seen both an angry Scott fight and a Marine fight, but never had she seen an angry Scot AND a Marine fight. Even though she's seen an Angry Scottish Marine.

"Fair enough." The Commissioner replied putting the clip board that had our paper work down. "You wanna get this guy doing something constructive that is fine by me."

"Good." I said heading into the interrogation room my cover tucked under my arm.

Just as the detective before left I stepped in. "Hello O'Brien." I said.

"Who Are you? And how do you know my name?" He asked.

"Because O'Brien I have been looking for someone with the unique ability to operate a tilt rotor and a fairly large ship." I said.

"What are ya' offerin'?" He asked.

"Well I know that your ancestors fought in several wars as Scottish mercenaries." I said.

"So what if Mah' great great grandpapy was a Merc?" O'Brien asked.

"Well I was offering you a job in a small Merc Company with a moral compass…but-"

"Wait ya' are offering me, a job?" He asked.

"Yup as of right now you are a free man proven innocent due to purely circumstantial evidence." I said.

"And thes was proven by you?" He asked.

"I have a tech savvy IT department yes." I replied.

"I'm in." He said.

"Well come on then, Ace." I said walking out the door. "Follow me, time to get your shit and head to your new home."

"So what's the name of our company?" Ace asked.

"The Huurling Company."


End file.
